[ They are fated, it seems, to undo one another. Kaveh delights in the sound of Alhaitham's words falling to pieces under the swell that engulfs them, in the husky sound that rolls from his throat into their kiss in response to the frustration, in the drumming of the scribe's heart against the press of their chests. When it comes down to it, it doesn't matter what exactly Alhaitham was going to say; Kaveh understands his intent, glows with it, answers it with each soft press of his lips into their kiss. The idea that all he needed, this whole time, was something already within his power—
Archons, it's intoxicating. Alhaitham is intoxicating. Kaveh intends to tell him as much— but then it's his turn to dissolve under the other's affection, the words catching on naught but air as his roommate's— lover's?— hand slips under his waistband and curls around him, stroking with a firm kind of determination that has the blonde's eyes roll back in his head, makes a trembling curse word trip from his mouth.
His own hand stutters to a temporary halt, the fingers in the other's hair tightening, and he answers the question— disarming as it is— with a series of quick, hungry kisses. ]
Gods, Alhaitham... this is when you finally decide to call me senior?
[ Ah, but— fuck, how is he meant to focus like this?
With a shuddering moan, he breaks free of their kiss, heated cheeks pressing into the crook of Alhaitham's neck, tongue laving over the mark he's left there as if it will ground him; as he does, both hands unwind, mimicking his younger partner's moves in finding the waistband of his pants, displacing it enough that one hand might slide beneath, taking a firm hold of his erection in turn. ]
Consider this... mm, a reward for paying due respect.
[ His hand trembles, the overwhelming feeling of his own pleasure distracting him somewhat, but his grip remains solid as he answers Alhaitham's rhythm in kind, moaning lowly into his throat. The scribe isn't the only one who's wanted this for years; Kaveh has thought about this too often, dreamed of it, and he's not about to let himself be swallowed up whole by the sensations. ]
no subject
Archons, it's intoxicating. Alhaitham is intoxicating. Kaveh intends to tell him as much— but then it's his turn to dissolve under the other's affection, the words catching on naught but air as his roommate's— lover's?— hand slips under his waistband and curls around him, stroking with a firm kind of determination that has the blonde's eyes roll back in his head, makes a trembling curse word trip from his mouth.
His own hand stutters to a temporary halt, the fingers in the other's hair tightening, and he answers the question— disarming as it is— with a series of quick, hungry kisses. ]
Gods, Alhaitham... this is when you finally decide to call me senior?
[ Ah, but— fuck, how is he meant to focus like this?
With a shuddering moan, he breaks free of their kiss, heated cheeks pressing into the crook of Alhaitham's neck, tongue laving over the mark he's left there as if it will ground him; as he does, both hands unwind, mimicking his younger partner's moves in finding the waistband of his pants, displacing it enough that one hand might slide beneath, taking a firm hold of his erection in turn. ]
Consider this... mm, a reward for paying due respect.
[ His hand trembles, the overwhelming feeling of his own pleasure distracting him somewhat, but his grip remains solid as he answers Alhaitham's rhythm in kind, moaning lowly into his throat. The scribe isn't the only one who's wanted this for years; Kaveh has thought about this too often, dreamed of it, and he's not about to let himself be swallowed up whole by the sensations. ]